Remembrance of Things Past
by Grignard
Summary: Who knew cooking her Nana's spaghetti with a silver armed assassin would be the way to Captain America's heart?


Darcy Lewis leaned forward against the railing trying to get a glimpse of her quarry. Considering he was a six foot tall, blonde, Adonis, it wasn't hard to spot.

"You're so obvious," a sly voice whispered in her ear.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, gripping the handrail with whitened knuckles. An undignified yelp nearly escaped her ruby red lips, but she managed to stifle it in time.

"Clint," she growled. All Avengers should be instated with a bell! God knows they all walked on such catlike tread.

Alright, she had to admit at a budding crush on the Captain, but who didn't have one? The all-American beefcake not only had the looks but had a genuine heart of gold. In addition, they had been spending more personal time together as her love of pop culture and encyclopedic knowledge of movies made her the perfect guide to the modern world to the fish out of water soldier.

An impromptu movie night turned into a weekly occurrence. Darcy actually found herself turning down dates in order to spend time with the Captain. She was discovering his dry sense of humor was enough to rival her own snarky levels.

The beauty glanced sideways towards the archer at her elbow pretending to people watch when she was indeed only watching one man.

"He's still trying to get used to this time period. He doesn't need a groupie hanging on him," the brunette muttered.

"You're not a groupie. You're much more than that. You're practically an Avenger."

Darcy scoffed but gave Clint a fond smile. He meant well, but it was hard to believe him. She bumped his impossibly muscled shoulder with hers reminding him of his training session with Natasha.

He gave a soft curse, "Thanks Darcy. You're a lifesaver."

CapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmer

She shrugged making her way home. Yes the Avengers Tower was nice and all, but it was beneficial to her sanity to have a place she could call her own without the watchful eye of Jarvis or Tony Stark looking over her shoulder. A helpful voice commenting on her shampoo choice during her morning shower was the last straw.

She approached the modest brownstone clutching her colorful peacoat jacket around her. Most New Yorkers dressed in depressing colors, a sea of black bundled figures rushing through and fro. The bright green was her way of sticking out, of being an individual.

The Avengers and Natasha's training had made her hyperaware of her surroundings. The neighbor's dog had been in her yard again, and now there was a stranger in a long coat lurking in the shadows.

She gripped the hilt of her Tony Stark modified taser, capable of firing a debilitating amount of voltage and re-charging within seconds. She should really give a warning though. The incident with the delivery boy had left her banned from any eatery within a mile. The figure looked kind of scruffy with long hair more suited for a hobo.

"I don't know who you are, but the only thing I have on me is an outdated iPod, and $4.73 in cash, so you won't be getting much."

The stranger actually snorted. "People have killed for less, doll."

Darcy gave a start. Only one person called her doll - a certain supersoldier 70 years out of date. She glanced at the man's left arm, and a gleam of silver reflected under the bright sun.

"You're Bucky, James Buchanan Barnes."

The man looked at her gobsmacked. He had expected her to scream, to denounce him as the Winter Soldier, but she had called him by his true name. The modified super serum's healing factor healed his physical injuries. The psychological ones still took time.

"And you're Darcy Lewis, granddaughter of Rebecca Lewis, maiden name Barnes"

Darcy's confused mind short-circuited. "Nana Becca? How do you know about her?"

The taller man glanced around, "You got somewhere we can talk in private?"

She jerked her head up towards the apartment building. She pulled out her keys and watched him warily. He wasn't even out of breath as the climbed the three flights to her apartment. She really needed to get in better shape.

Always the soldier, he scanned the building noting the best ways of escape and sat in a chair with his back to a wall.

In the silence Darcy couldn't help but unload her thoughts.

"Cap's been looking everywhere for you! He thought you were in Russia for a while, but then someone spotted you in Argentina and then Steve took off in the middle of the night. Couldn't even finish our Indiana Jones movie marathon," she trailed off mournfully.

Bucky gave a slow blink. "The fourth movie was awful."

Darcy groaned not wanting to deal with another sarcastic supersoldier. Speaking of which, she reached for her Starkphone to call the others when Bucky reached out with his non-bionic hand.

"Wait, please. Don't call him yet. Just let me get my questions answered before you call the jerk."

The woman gave a slow nod. She always had her taser if he went ballistic. At least with the Hulk there was a couple of seconds of warning as his skin took on a green hue. With the Winter Soldier, Tony had warned the programming could activate suddenly.

"Wait, you didn't call Steve the asset."

Bucky gave a wry grimace. "All that's out of my head. All it took was space and time, something Steve never could understand."

It was true, the patriotic man was a coddler, and Darcy was also the same way, perhaps not as gentle, practically shoving coffee and pop tarts down her scientist's throat as part of her wrangling duties.

"How'd you find me?'

"There's a lot you can do with a library card."

She had to let out a snort picturing the man applying for a library card like a schoolchild.

"The library had some newspapers on microfilm. I found Rebecca Barnes' marriage announcement to a David Lewis. They had one child, James."

"Wow..." Darcy's voice caught with a hitch. Her deceased father was named after Bucky? No, named after her grandmother's brother, a war hero killed in action.

"I just want to find out what happened to my family after all this time. Or what's left of them."

The woman nodded. The first thing Steve had done was visit Sarah Roger's grave. After finding Peggy and the descendants of the Howling Commandoes, he had a bittersweet closure. Bucky just wanted to do the same.

She couldn't help but quip, "So you're my great-uncle?"

He rolled his eyes. "I guess so, doll.

CapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmer

Darcy Lewis wasn't special. She was not a trained assassin, or a genius scientist, only a plain-Jane (Hah! Her best friend could get dressed up if she tried) intern.

Tony was trying to actively set up Steve with this year's Miss America. Natasha was pushing Agent Thirteen. How could Darcy compete with that?

Bucky snorted dismissively eyeing the pot Darcy was stirring on the pot. "You know he was Steve before he was Captain America? A skinny wimp who could barely throw a punch?"

It was her turn to snort. "Whether he's a 6 foot tall wall of muscle, or someone who barely weighed 100 pounds soaking wet, Steve has always had the same heart."

The dark haired man smirked, "And his heart has all been yours, doll. You treat him as if he wasn't the supersoldier."

Her pale skin flushed a brilliant red and she leapt away from the stove, pacing in agitation.

"I'm going to defile an American icon," she muttered.

Bucky barked out a sharp laugh. "He needs to let loose every once in a while. At least you won't sell anything to the tabloids."

She rounded on him, "I would never! Not only would that be betraying Steve, but that's as if I ratted out on Nat, Bruce or anyone who's part of the Avengers!"

The man gave her a wide smile, "That's why you're the best choice for him. If the punk couldn't marry Rebecca, well, my grand-niece will do just as well."

She muttered softly deftly changing the subject, "What am I supposed to add to the sauce now?"

Bucky glanced over at the old, stained recipe in his mother's neat scrawl. "A half a teaspoon of oregano."

Darcy reached for the small container of dried herb, but stopped at seeing her ancestor's grimace.

She scowled, "What? It's easier. The fresh stuff is expensive." She dumped the appropriate amount in the pot blending it into the mixture.

"It doesn't taste the same."

"But we don't have to spend hours just to cook a meal."

"You would if it was Steve beside you," he muttered.

For an instant Darcy could picture it, a sunny kitchen with a blonde man laughing gently as he diced tomatoes while he watched her cry over chopped onions.

Wait a minute. When did she get all June Cleaver on him?

She shook herself out of her daydream.

Bucky gave her a long suffering gaze as he sampled the sauce giving it an approving nod, "Trust me doll, he'll be eating out of the palm of your hand if you fed him this."

CapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmer

Small candles lit the area as Darcy placed dishes on the table.

"Geez, what a time to lose power," she muttered. Maybe she should have invited joined Steve at the tower instead of her dumpy walkup.

She had barely placed the garlic bread in its cute red basket when a knock sounded on her door.

Drcy answered it with a wide smile, "7 o'clock, right on time soldier boy."

He grinned back at her, handing her a beautiful bouquet of red roses.

She invited him in and greatly appreciated his chosen outfit of a long sleeved red shirt with close fitting jeans. The brunette remembered his alarm at first trying them on at the store. All she could say was that fashion had changed since his era. His face was as red as his shirt when the salesgirl enthusiastically agreed.

"Sorry about the power outage. We can still go to the Tower if you want, Steve," Darcy apologized.

The blond waved her off with a smile. "No, it's fine. It reminds me of my Ma's house. We had blackouts all of the time. I make a pretty mean shadow puppet."

The girl laughed as she quickly waved him over to the kitchen table. She continued to laugh as Steve's bright blue eyes widened at the huge serving of pasta she gave him.

Topped with warm garlic bread, the young man gave a quick prayer over the meal, and soon dug in. Steven swirled a helping of pasta onto his fork and eagerly took a mouthful off his fork.

Worn hands, chopping garlic deftly. A heavy Brooklyn accent admonishing but loving at the same time. The sound of street activity as a hearty meal was enjoyed by a laughing table.

The utensil fell with a clatter on the plate.

"Steve?!" Darcy leapt up in alarm. "What's wrong? Is it not good?"

He swallowed slowly, "No, it's wonderful. It tastes just like Mrs. B's, I mean Bucky's mom's, spaghetti." He turned wide blue eyes to hers. "Where did you get this?"

She smiled shyly. "I made it from my family's recipe. Oh, and help from my great-uncle," she added belatedly. "He grew up in your era."

"I don't understand," Steve muttered. "It tastes just like Mrs. Barnes'."

Darcy suddenly got an idea in her head. "You can meet him if you want. Swap stories about the good ole days."

The superhero nodded once. "I'd like that, but for now, I'd just like to enjoy your company, doll."

CapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmerCapAmer

Bucky rolled his eyes while in the darkness at the side of Darcy apartment building. Even without his super enhanced hearing, he already knew Darcy would try to get him and the punk to meet up.

He would approach Steve on his own time, when his demons were finally behind him.

* * *

 _New fandom for me as a writer. I'm not sure if there's more viewership here or in Archive of Our Own._

 _Inspired by Ratatouille, and long lost relative clichés._

 _Please review,  
Grignard_


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